


Idiot Genius

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship with the beginnings of more, Jarvis is a saint, M/M, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Steve Needs a Hug, Steve is done with Tony's shit, Steve is worried, Team as Family, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Needs a Hug, because Tony is an idiot, character injury, they both want it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: When Tony takes a hit in the field for Steve, he doesn't tell the Avengers how badly he's injured. It doesn't go well for anyone involved, and Steve is worried about his idiot genius.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (Pre)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	Idiot Genius

_ Son of a bitch, that hurt.  _

“Sir—” 

“I know, Jay.” 

“Sir, we must extract to the tower immediately,” JARVIS said, his tone urgent in a way that only an AI could be. Tony was inordinately proud of his son, struck by the emotion when for all intents and purposes, JARVIS was still a computer programme. 

Knowing that didn’t make Tony feel any less guilt about leaving him behind.

“Belay that, Jay. Cap wants a debrief, and I won’t be a disappointment. Remember that conversation we had about responsibilities?” 

“Sir, you will  _ die  _ if you aren’t seen by medical professionals immediately.” 

“Don’t be dramatic, Jay,” Tony replied, though every movement was causing him awful amounts of pain, and he felt spacey and—” 

“Sir,  _ please. _ ”

“Mute,” Tony choked out as he landed beside the jet.

Usually he’d fly straight up to the helicarrier for the debrief, but he followed the team onto the quinjet instead, ignoring the inquiring looks aimed his way, and the glare Steve was using to try and burn a hole through the Iron Man suit. 

Oh yay, he was in trouble. Again. 

Concentrating on staying conscious, Tony paid them no mind, and followed silently from the jet to the debrief room. The only thing keeping him moving was the suit, and while he’d muted his AI, JARVIS was keeping the suit steady. 

He really loved his boy. 

Thankfully, the damage to Tony notwithstanding—since nobody actually knew about it—the battle had been relatively simple. 

Except for Tony taking a hit intended for Steve, of course. The good Captain always got a little uppity about that. 

He railed at Tony, and Tony tried to concentrate on his words, he really did, but Steve was suddenly sounding like he was far away. Almost like Tony was in a tunnel. 

There seemed to be a pause, and Tony forced a few words from his lips. “I did what I had to do. If that’s all?” 

He didn’t wait for a reply. “Jay, take me back to the tower.” 

“Sir,” JARVIS replied, tone quiet and worried. “I don’t know if you’ll—” 

“It’s gonna be okay, Jay, you’ll see. Take me home, son.” 

… 

Steve was irritated, but he was also a little worried. Tony hardly ever denied himself the chance to defend his actions, and his post battle behaviour had definitely been different to the norm. 

“Captain, if you could make haste to Sir’s workshop,” JARVIS intoned, as soon as Steve set foot inside the tower. “He requires immediate assistance. The medical team is on route.” 

“Dammit,” Steve cursed, ignoring the elevator in spite of the stairs, where he could run as easily as if he was on flat ground. The doors were already open for him when he arrived at the workshop, and he found Tony slumped on the ground, a pool of blood spread out on the ground from what looked like a wound on his side, DUM-E poking at him gently, whirring worriedly. 

“ETA on medical, JARVIS?” he asked, as he slid to his knees, willfully ignoring that he was literally kneeling in Tony’s blood, to see if he could find a pulse. 

There was one, though it was weak, and Tony’s breathing was slow, laboured. 

“Two minutes, Captain,” JARVIS intoned. 

“He got this saving me, didn’t he?” Steve asked, shucking off his jacket. He scrunched it into a ball and pressed it against the wound, putting as much pressure as he dared to try to stem the blood loss. 

“Sir did what he felt was correct, Captain,” JARVIS replied softly. “However, he is often far too stubborn for his own good when it comes to him needing help for himself.” 

Steve nodded, because he knew that. He’d known that since almost the beginning. He’d thought— hoped—that they were beyond that though. He’d hoped that Tony had realised that being part of a team meant he wasn’t weak asking them for help when he needed it. 

As medical staff poured into the workshop, Steve forced himself to move away from Tony, standing back as they tried to help him, before they loaded him onto a board and carried him into the elevator. 

“Steve?” Natasha asked from the doorway. The team had arrived seconds after Tony had departed, and her eyes catalogued the blood on the floor, on Steve’s jacket and his trouser legs. “Is Tony—” 

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered. “He was injured during the battle and—” he swallowed hard, barely repressing a sob. “He didn’t tell us.” 

“Come on,” Nat murmured, gesturing him to the door. “Let’s get cleaned up, and we can head to the hospital. We can’t let him wake up without us there, the poor doctors don’t deserve that kind of trauma.” 

Steve tried to smile, he really did, but he was sure it looked more like a grimace. 

Almost as though his body was working without his permission, he followed Natasha’s directions from the lab. He’d shower and change, and then… and then he’d go and wait for news on his fallen teammate. 

Failure wasn’t a good feeling, but Steve knew this time, he fully deserved it. He was the team leader, he was supposed to notice things like this. 

This was on him. 

… 

Steve stared at the wall, his eyes unfocused. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting in the waiting room, but he knew it had been a while. It felt like decades, every minute that passed a year off his life from the fear that Tony wouldn’t be okay. 

The team had tried to draw him into conversations, but it hadn’t taken them long to give it up, leaving him alone as they talked quietly amongst themselves. 

Now they’d all fallen silent, and Steve could vaguely hear the snoring that meant Thor had fallen asleep in the uncomfortable chair he was sprawled on.

It didn’t matter how many years Steve had been in the ice, hospital chairs had never improved. 

There was movement close to the door, enough to break Steve’s staring and he turned to see who it was, hoping for news. Instead, Pepper was there, her face pale, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. 

He’d never seen her less put together in all the years he’d known her. 

Absent were the heels and the smart suit; instead she wore a tracksuit and sneakers, not a speck of make up on her face. 

“Has there been any updates?” she asked, meeting his eyes. 

Steve swallowed hard and shook his head. “Not yet. He, uh, they were talking about operating, when we got here.” 

She cursed softly but nodded. “He’s a stubborn asshole, he’ll be fine. Rhodey’s on his way too.” 

Steve nodded. “I… sorry I didn’t let you know. I didn’t, uh, think about it. Sorry.” 

“JARVIS let us know as soon as the medical team were called,” Pepper said as she took a seat beside Natasha. “There are protocols in place—that Tony fought against, of course.” 

Clint snorted, shaking his head. “He’s terrible about self care, isn’t he?” 

“If you're the one saying that, we know it’s bad,” Natasha quipped rolling her eyes. “I’m going to go and get coffee, does anyone want any?” 

Steve shook his head, but he saw Pepper and Bruce both nod. Clint wrinkled his nose but stood up, following her from the room. 

“He’ll be okay, Steve,” Pepper said, offering him a tight smile. “If you’re going to be around for a while, this is something that you’ll have to get used to. Tony doesn’t do anything by half.” 

Steve rubbed a hand over his face. He did plan to be around for a while, but if it was up to him, this would be the last time Tony hid an injury from him. 

… 

“A coma?” Rhodey repeated, arching his eyebrow. “Medically induced or natural?” 

“Natural,” the doctor replied. “Unfortunately that means that, until Mr Stark wakes up, we’re not going to know exactly how much damage has been done.” 

Steve felt his heart sink. “He will wake up though?” he asked, interrupting Rhodey before he could ask anything else. 

The doctor made  _ a face,  _ and then sighed. “We don't know for sure.” 

“He will,” Rhodey said, eyes flashing. “He has too.” 

Steve really wished he had the same level of certainty and confidence that Rhodey did, because all he could picture in his mind was a world in which Tony Stark didn’t wake up. 

It wasn’t a good place. 

… 

“Steve it’s been four days, you can’t just… sit here forever,” Sam said softly, handing over food that Steve wouldn’t taste. 

He hadn’t been able to taste anything but ash since the mission. 

“I won’t let him wake up alone,” Steve replied stubbornly. 

“He won’t. We can all take turns, Pal. We’re not going to leave him but you need a break.” 

Steve just shook his head. “I’m fine.” 

… 

Natasha stared at him from where she was perched, cross legged, on the end of Tony’s bed. “You know, he’s going to be fuming with you when he wakes up.” 

Steve blinked. “It’s nothing less than I deserve.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t mean because of the mission. Shit happens, he knew the risks. No, I mean because you’re clearly not looking after yourself and you look like shit. Tony doesn’t like that, you know he doesn’t.” 

Steve snorted, because she wasn’t wrong about that. Tony did get inordinately angry with Steve when he didn’t get enough food or sleep. Steve had lost count of the amount of times he’d teased the genius about being a hypocrite. 

“Come and spar with me?” she offered. “Thor and Bruce are on their way in, he won’t be alone. And then you can shower, and maybe get a few hours in a real bed?” 

Steve ran a hand through his greasy hair. “An hour sparring, and a shower, and then I’m coming back here, okay?” 

She sighed, but nodded her head. Even that was better than nothing. 

… 

Everything hurt. 

That was the first thing Tony noticed, and he was a bit irritated by it in all honesty. Wasn’t death supposed to be painless? And silent, Jesus, what was that beeping? 

Forcing his eyes open, he found himself in a familiar sterile white room, and was struck with the realisation that he wasn’t actually dead. Huh. Different, but he’d take it. 

Shifting—and sending hellfire up his side as he did so because  _ fucking ouch— _ Tony looked around the room. The curtains were shut, but from the small gap at the side, he could tell it was dark outside. In the corner of the room, fresh flowers had been placed on a small table, along with various boxes of half eaten sweets. 

Barton had clearly been in his goodies, the heathen. 

In the other corner, Steve lay with his head tilted back, clearly uncomfortable in his sleep. Tony regarded him for a few moments, taking the time to catalogue that the Super Soldier absolutely hadn’t been taking care of himself. 

He had beard growth—which Steve never got, he was always freshly shaven because he was a boy scout—and there were deep bruises beneath his eyes, which meant he’d been avoiding sleep, since it took a while for lack of sleep to have any visible signs on him. 

_ How long had Tony been here for?  _

Tony shifted again, and despite his attempt to remain silent, gasped in pain when he moved a little too much. 

Steve’s eyes flashed open and he was sitting up in the time it took Tony to blink, their eyes meeting in the semi darkness of the room. 

“Oh my—Tony, you’re awake!” 

Tony nodded slowly. “I… Steve, how long have I been here for?” 

Steve pulled his chair closer to the bed, reaching out hesitantly to take Tony’s hand in between both of his own. “Two weeks. We weren’t… nobody was certain if you were going to wake up or not.” 

Tony closed his eyes briefly. Two weeks? Good lord. 

“I… was anyone else injured? Why are you here looking like a hobo? Seriously Steve, you haven’t been sleeping or shaving and—” 

“Because you’re  _ here _ ,” Steve emphasised. “I haven’t left much, so there wasn’t really time to shave, and have you tried sleeping in one of those chairs? I can catch up when you’re home, Tony.” 

“But… why?” Tony asked, completely nonplussed. 

Unfortunately, Steve was saved from answering by the doctor walking in, blinking in surprise when he saw Tony was awake. He gave Steve the stink eye. 

“You didn’t think to alert us?” 

“He’s been awake about three minutes,” Steve replied, glaring right back at the doctor. “I couldn’t exactly just walk out without telling him anything, could I?” 

… 

Long recovery, Tony scoffed to himself, as the doctor left. Not likely. Especially not the part about him remaining in hospital. He could rest and recover perfectly well at home, thank you very much. 

Steve, the traitor, seemed to believe the doctor when he said Tony needed to stay in the room, because he didn’t cave to Tony’s arguing either. 

Tony slumped back in the bed, and just nodded when Steve said he was going to inform the others that Tony was awake, and with time, would be fine and back to his normal self. He waited a few minutes, and then pushed himself up in the bed, wincing and cursing softly to himself at the pain. 

One thing home didn’t have was morphine, but he’d suffered worse without it, so he figured he’d manage this time too. 

Sneaking out of hospital wasn’t as easy as it usually was, unfortunately. Nobody had bothered to bring him his phone or a tablet, so he couldn’t connect to JARVIS, and even if he could, he honestly had no idea how trashed his suit was. 

Instead, Tony was stuck holding up a pair of Steve’s joggers since he couldn’t find any of his own clothes, and was being drowned in one of Steve’s shirts, as he crept down the corridors. He’d found his own shoes, thankfully, so at least he wasn’t trying to wade down the corridor in the boats Steve called shoes. 

Once outside, flagging a cab was easy enough, and Tony was on his way back to the Tower before anyone had even realised he’d left the hospital. He knew he’d probably face irate team members, and worse, an irate Pepper or Rhodey when he got back, so instead of taking his usual way into the tower, he walked straight through the front doors and into the elevator to his workshop. 

From there, lockdown was as easy as 1,2,3, and despite JARVIS’ bitching, Tony was soon snuggled up on his sofa, DUM-E beeping at him softly as he drifted off to sleep. 

… 

“JARVIS—” 

“Sir still has the workshop on lockdown,” JARVIS said apologetically. “Although he’s allowed me to inform you that his vitals are stable and he’s doing as well as can be expected given the injuries he’s recovering from.” 

Steve scowled. “How much recovery can be happening in the workshop?” 

“You know Tony,” Clint said, trying to sound soothing. “He’s always happiest when he can tinker with something. Maybe it’s what he needs.” 

“It’s been two days, Clint. After two weeks in a coma. He’s not… I need to be able to see him, to make sure he’s okay.” 

“He’ll come up when he feels less vulnerable,” Natasha said softly. “Until then, we’re just going to have to wait, I think.” 

Steve shook his head. “I’m not waiting that long.” 

… 

“Captain Rogers, I really must advise against such actions,” JARVIS said, and Steve huffed a small laugh as he tightened the grip on his shield. 

“He either lets me in, or I’ll make my own way in, JARVIS.” 

As Steve raised the SHIELD to smash it against the reinforced glass, the doors slid open. Steve found himself looking at Tony, who was wrapped up in blankets on the sofa, watching him with an arched eyebrow. 

“You know, property damage doesn’t make anyone like you more, Rogers,” he quipped, as Steve lowered the shield. 

“You were hiding from me,” Steve pointed out, as he crossed the threshold of the workshop. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Tony’s cheeks heated up slightly. “I uh. I assumed you’d make me go back to the hospital,” he admitted. “I… really don’t like hospitals.” 

Steve sighed, crouching down in front of Tony. “I won’t make you go back to the hospital unless I genuinely think you need it, but I will make you come upstairs where I can keep an eye on you, okay?” 

“Steve—” 

“You seem to be under the impression that we care less about you than you do about us, and that couldn’t be further from the truth, you idiot.” 

“Certified genius, actually.” 

“Perhaps with some things,” Steve conceded. “But definitely not this. This, hiding down here when you should be upstairs with us, recovering properly and letting us help you, this makes you an idiot.” 

Tony reached out and gently prodded the bruises beneath Steve’s eyes. “You’re still not sleeping.” 

“No, well, this idiot genius I know keeps trying to give me a heart attack,” Steve replied fondly. 

“Steve—” 

“Just come upstairs, okay? Let me, let us, look after you; the way you always look after us.” 

Tony pursed his lips for a moment and then nodded his head. “Okay. I can… maybe do that, except I am struggling to move.” 

Steve chuckled, and in one smooth movement, picked Tony up, blankets and all, and turned towards the door. “How did you even get out of the hospital?” 

“Adrenaline?” Tony offered. 

“Sheer stubborn will, more like,” Steve corrected, shaking his head as he stepped into the elevator. “You hungry?” 

“Little bit.” 

“Kay. We’ll order some food, and then I’ll talk Bruce into giving you the good drugs, okay?” 

Tony smiled. “You’re the best.” 

… 

Tony’s recovery was only just beginning, and despite his disbelief that it would be quite as long as the doctors predicted—he was stubborn, remember—he knew that for a few weeks, he was probably going to have to take it easy. 

Curled up on the sofa, leaning into the heat of Steve while the team pottered about around them… well, it wasn’t a terrible way to spend his convalescence. 


End file.
